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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24061219">Too Close to the Sun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vendetta_Panda/pseuds/Mun%20V'>Mun V (Vendetta_Panda)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crimes &amp; Criminals, During Canon, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fantasy elements, Fluff and Angst, Government Corruption, Kidnapping, Mythology References, Organized Crime, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smoking, Torture, Violence, will add more tags as they become applicable</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:42:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,950</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24061219</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vendetta_Panda/pseuds/Mun%20V</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Decorated FIB Agent Steven Haines has just been promoted to oversee the Los Santos branch of the FIB following the massive success of his television show “The Underbelly of Paradise”. Little does he know that this promotion will make keeping his personal life and his work life separated markedly  more difficult, especially when he finds out that the FIB itself has more than a few secrets it needs to keep under wraps if he wants to keep his career afloat. As if the stress of tying up old loose ends wasn’t enough, the FIB is also facing a much more direct form of targeting from its rival organization, the IAA, to secure federal funding. And they might just have an ace up their sleeve to throw him and his superiors out of the frying pan and into the fire. Luckily, he might have someone on his side who knows how to fight fire with Fire. The question now is, can Steve handle the heat?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Haines/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Midnight Sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>White sandy beaches and sun-kissed shores were as much of a hallmark of Los Santos as the Vinewood sign overlooking the city from where it sat on Mount Chiliad itself. The bright lettering was a monarch, perched high above the city skyline on a throne of rock and tainted soil, overlooking its subjects that scattered about the crowded streets of the great city of lights. And though much could be said about the inhabitants of Los Santos themselves, many of their stories vanished beyond the glitz and glamour of the city’s attractions, like Del Perro Pier, the Oriental Theater, the Stars, and the like. Those eye-catching traps which garnered all the attention and managed to put rose-tinted lenses over the eyes of tourists and natives alike that seemed to push all the dull greys of the reality of living in San Andreas into the background where it all became one foggy color covered in glitter. The only ones truly untouched by it all were those that caught the flash of the cameras in their eyes and grinned for the pictures. The social elite. The one’s free from physical filth but bearing hands soaked with oily corruption, and even blood in some cases. Nothing that a small sum of money couldn’t wash away though. Or status in the case of some. Among that lot of those revered and hated in equal measure was Steven Haines, a decorated FIB Agent who’d made a name for himself hosting a show about the “secretive dark side of the city” revolving around crime and the ongoing colorful gang wars that the no amount of pink shades could turn to stardust. </p><p>The irony of the situation was not lost on some. </p><p>But Steve was not one to worry about the personal opinions of others. It was the public opinion that had his attention at all times. He had appearances to keep up, ratings to rake in, and an audience to keep on the line in good faith so that no one would suspect the corruption he was slipping into his coffee cup each day that passed with him in charge of the Los Santos FIB branch. Part of that meant keeping up the charming act he donned during his recordings for the Underbelly of Paradise, even when he couldn’t have cared less for the people he was rubbing elbows with. </p><p>That was how he ended up here.</p><p>The place vaguely reminded him of the Vanilla Unicorn, though parts of it seemed like a mix between the gentlemen’s club and Bahama Mama’s. Only this place seemed a lot cleaner, a lot more organized, and above all, a lot more exclusive. Black marble walls were illuminated by neon signs and the dim lighting provided just enough contrast for one to find the outlines of their feet against the polished white and black tiling of the floor. The bar was stocked well, the tender serving the finer types of drinks one could own to just a handful of people. A variety of pristine tables and velvety booths were offered by the establishment, the spaces for seating divided right down the middle by a cleared path towards a few short steps on a decline. Front and center to the stairs was a collection of seats and a cage with a dancer inside, mostly-bare body illuminated by bright paint. There were other stages past her towards the back with more performers, and near them was another set of stairs that lead down into a smaller private lounge area. Some of the people Steve had walked in with were making their way towards the lounge, checking in with the largest bouncer he’d ever seen in his life. Briefly, he wondered who they were heading to meet but the thought died in his head before he had the impulse to act on it by finding out for himself. It wasn’t worth getting deeper into this place finding out. More tabloid stories than it was worth. </p><p>Don’t get him wrong, Steve liked a good club as much as the next pompous Vinewood celebrity. But it wasn’t so much fun going out with others under the guise of “celebrating wrapping up recording for the second season of his show” as it was lurking around these places on his own. The man preferred exploring dens on his own accord, maybe even scoping out a partner for the evening. One-night stands had become a rather commonplace occurrence for him. They gave him the attention and validation he craved with a lot less risk of a scandal breaking out with his name as the headline. After all, all the Vinewood fat cats were doing it. Even Devin Weston! If he could get away with it, then the decorated agent definitely had nothing to worry about. This? This wasn’t fun though, and he was just about getting ready to call it quits and pull an Irish goodbye when he spotted someone that caught his eye. </p><p>Maybe it was the fiery red hair that was pulled back into a long wavy ponytail. Maybe it was the fact she was sitting all alone at a booth wearing shades late at night inside a dimly lit building. Maybe it was the way she seemed to feel him staring at her, and when she turned to face him, looked over her sunglasses to hold down that curious blue stare of his with her own shade of honey-gold curiosity. Or maybe it was how she brought the edge of her wine glass up to her painted lips and took a sip without ever breaking eye contact. There were a million things about her that could have stood out to him and caught Steve’s attention in a second, but he was never a man to try and describe those superficial features as anything more than reasons to try and get lucky. That’s why he excused himself from the bar with little more than a muttered phrase and rose to his feet. His head tipped back a slight, that cocky smirk of his  curving his lips and only widening when he saw the mystery woman turn her attention back to the opposite side of the booth. She looked bored in his mind. Not that she’d stay unamused for long. He confidently made his way over to her, seemingly catching her attention again only when he was halfway into the seat across from her and already getting comfortable.</p><p>“This seat taken?” He half purred, to which she shook her head in response. </p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Color me surprised,” he eyebrows peeled a bit as he spoke, turning up the charm. “Pretty girl like you oughta have some company.”</p><p>“Really? Well I guess I have some now.” She offered with a small smile. It was hard to read her with those captivating eyes hidden behind her shades again. She raised her hand, motioning for a waiter to come back around and fill up her glass again. Steve grinned a bit as one came by, interjecting with a “make that two. And leave the bottle, would ya?”</p><p>And so it began. The two went back and forth carrying on a few different light conversations. Recent news, one or two songs that came on in the club, LS traffic, the weather that day, some tabloid journal reporting on some obscure subject. The conversation felt like it went on for hours but really, it was probably only a few minutes. Glass after glass of sweet wine, topic after small talk topic. It got pretty boring after a while. The only thing stopping Steve from getting up and walking away were the lips telling it all to him, and that bright, fiery hair so unlike the bleach blondes and brunettes of Los Santos. Even other redheads failed to compare to the vibrancy of it. And the irises behind those dark shades that he was itching to get another look at- just a glance. And maybe he had a plan as to how. </p><p> </p><p>“You’ve got good taste.” He hummed, taking another sip of his drink and letting a beat of silence pass between them</p><p>“Not every day I get to enjoy a good drink. Figured I’d treat myself.” The lady replied, swishing the deep red liquid around in her glass. </p><p>“What the occasion?”</p><p>There was a pause before his mysterious date responded, “oh, just a celebration of sorts.”</p><p>“Really? That makes two of us then.” Haines chuckled at the coincidence— she definitely had come in with him and his party, and began pouring himself a bit more wine before stopping as an idea came to his mind that brought a smug grin to his face. “Well you know, the celebration doesn’t have to end here. Why don’t we ditch this place and head back to yours so we can keep the festivities going with whatever’s left in the bottle?”</p><p>The offer was put forward with Steve’s signature show host grin. His trump card. That cunning smile that made the paparazzi go wild, and which finally drew the enigmatic woman before him to raise her glasses off the bridge of her nose and rest them on her scalp so he could see how the smile she returned reached those luminous golden eyes.</p><p>No one tried to stop them as they left. In fact, no one seemed to even notice Haines was gone. Whether that was because they didn’t want to deal with his insufferable self any longer than they had to or simply because they didn’t care, it was still a blessing in his mind. The less people saw of them the better.</p><p> </p><p>The little motel tucked snugly into one upper corner of Vespucci beach was hardly the lavish place he was expecting from someone dressed like her, though he knew he should have suspected something was up given that over that cocktail dress she’d been wearing a cropped leather jacket. Not that it mattered anyway. Steve was too busy trying to distract her with keeping her lips on his while she tried to blindly navigate her motel key out of her wallet and towards the door. As if that wasn’t challenging enough, being backed against the door and having no line of sight with the locking mechanism whatsoever only made things harder. But there were no complaints from either, not even as the door suddenly swung back behind her and the two were nearly sent crashing to the ground. Thankfully, Steve caught her, and the two broke the kiss to share a playful giggle between themselves. The opportunity to raise her up in his arms and carry her like the hero he always liked to pretend he was grew too tempting an idea to ignore and the door behind him was kicked closed with his heel as he made his way over to the bed with her.</p><p>Steve couldn’t tell if it was just the buzz of alcohol drowning his brain and making every sensation feel fuzzy and warm or if the girl beneath him really felt as hot as she looked. He chalked it up to the motel room being stuffy and the wine thickening the already hot blood that was being pumped all throughout his body by the rapid pounding of his overexcited heart. Her face was flushed and he was certain that his was too judging by the burning of his cheeks. Even if it was just heat brought on by the moment, she felt like the god damn LS sun with the way she seemed to glow, with the way she felt. And God knew how much the beach boy loved the feeling of the sun shining down on him like some kind of oversized spotlight. The warmth of her lips alone wasn’t enough to sustain him for long. He wanted every last ray of midnight sunshine she offered all to himself. Just for tonight. Come morning he’d be satisfied enough to enjoy the real sun again and this little night of theirs would be little more than another wine-stained page in the history book of hasty decisions.</p><p>Until then, Steve could enjoy the feeling of her wrapped around him, smothering him with that wonderfully overwhelming heat, and the sight of those golden eyes suddenly brightening as they looked at him with the realization that this was probably the best night of her entire life. </p><p>Or maybe it was realization that they left the last of the wine in his car.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Stoking Flames</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A morning after a one-night stand is rarely free of awkward tension. In Los Santos, such a case is unheard of. Thankfully, Steve has the excuse of work to fall back on.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The morning sunshine filtered into the motel room through thin slits in the rickety old blinds on the window, illuminating specks of dust floating through the air as the ribbons of gold draped themselves over the two bodies still comfortably nestled in the worn sheets. Steve was the first of the two to respond to the early calls of song birds and bumper to bumper traffic outside. He rubbed the lingering weariness from his eyes as he slowly sat up, arms rising high above him before stretching out wide as he let out a contented yawn. A pleasant ache still lingered in his muscles, as did the most annoying little headache. He glanced around, trying to familiarize himself with his surroundings. That proved to be more difficult than he was initially expecting. The weathered floral wallpaper and stained brown carpet of the motel room, the smell of sweat and cheap air freshener, the sturdy yet worn wood furniture that looked like it had been violently thrown out of fashion ten years prior. Nothing about this place rang any bells, save for the girl in bed beside him. He had no trouble recognizing that fiery hair and the way it caught the morning’s golden glow in its flowing locks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the looks of it, she was still sound asleep, unaware and unbothered by the FIB agent slowly making his way to the edge of the bed to sit up and find his clothes. He managed to find his briefs at the foot of the bed and his shirt, pants, and belt scattered apart and thrown in various corners of the room. The only clothing still holding some semblance of presentable dignity were his shoes, laid neatly in the foyer by the front door. Steve went about collecting his clothes and putting them back on, sparing a moment to dust himself off. As he sat on the edge of the bed to slip his shoes back on, he felt the mattress shift beneath him and a soft voice behind him mumble a tired, “going so soon?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve turned to face the woman now sitting up on her knees before him, clutching the sheets to her chest and tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and spared her a smirk as he leaned over. “Why? Afraid you’ll miss me?” He sealed the words with a chaste kiss to her lips, and he found they were just as warm now as they’d been the night before. “While I’d love to stay a while longer, I’m afraid duty calls.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And just as quickly as Steve had leaned in to offer her the cold comfort of one last kiss, he drew back to stand up and smoothen out his shirt again, chest puffed proudly. “You see, I work with local law enforcement—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re an FIB agent.” She cut him off, all traces of exhaustion abandoning her voice as she looked up at him. To the hidden confusion of said agent, she didn’t look impressed, surprised, in awe, or anything even remotely befitting of someone having the realization that they’d just slept with a high-ranking government official. As a matter of fact, she looked very nonplussed about the current situation and continued on. “Steve Haines, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Haines was feeling more than a little dumbfounded at her reaction, or lack thereof, but tried to shrug it off with a forcefully exhaled chuckle and clearing of his throat. “Yeah— yes. Exactly. Didn’t think you’d put it together actually.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and why not?” By this point, the girl had moved herself to the edge of the bed and was showing him her back as she leaned down to collect her own discarded articles of clothing. She looked back over her shoulder at him, giving him an expectant look as she waited for his answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, uh- well, you don’t exactly look like a local.” The words came out with a stuttered chuckle. Once again Steve found his eyes being drawn to that mystifyingly vibrant red hair. It looked more orange in this light. When she pulled it back into a neat ponytail again, it looked like fire dancing in her hands under her control. “Say, I don’t think I ever caught your name.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s Psyche.” She hummed, standing up to slip back into her platform shoes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Psyche…” Steve repeated, the name seemingly stuck on his tongue. He’d heard a lot of strange names in his life, many of them undoubtedly coming from suburban moms thinking their kid was extra special and deciding that they needed to stamp that sense of “quirkiness” onto their birth certificate for the world to see. But Psyche? Even that was a bit outlandish. Dare he say, foreign. “I didn’t think you were from here.” He teased as she collected her clutch purse and turned to face him again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What gave it away?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, just the whole ‘staying at a motel’ bit, the packed suitcase by the front door, the hair, the eyes—“ Steve cut himself off before he went on for too long, gave away maybe a bit too much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been here long enough to recognize the host of the Underbelly of Paradise, haven’t I?” She gave him an unimpressed look, pulling the sunglasses resting on the top of her head down over her eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she strode over to the door with a level of confidence that gave even Steve a run for his money, he paused for a moment to let her pass and watch her walk ahead of him. “Let me guess… European?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re on the right track, amazingly.” That sounded like sarcasm. Psyche opened the door ahead of them and Steve reached over to catch the edge of it in his hand and hold it open as she stepped out, staying hot on her heels.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not picking up any accents… So either you’ve been here a while or I need to brush up on my foreign accents, and I’ve got a feeling it isn’t the latter. Am I right?” He leaned over her shoulder with an impish grin. It took a great amount of effort on Psyche’s part not to groan in annoyance at his incessant badgering paired with his cocky attitude. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You might be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come oooon, throw me a bone here, baby.” The playful whine was grating in the girl’s ears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid I don’t have the time for that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘baby’</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Psyche responded curtly, demeanor growing colder by the second. This was fun for the handful of hours and then some that he had kept her entertained in bed. Now that she was trying to shake him, not so much. “And judging by what you told me a few minutes ago, neither do you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay—” he raised his arms in surrender, submitting to her request to ease up on the pestering. For now. But that only made him more curious about her, and her intentions in that case. Why? He couldn’t explain it. One night stands had never gotten this much attention out of him before. Maybe it was her reaction to realizing who he was earlier, or the fact that she didn’t seem to regard him as all that important. Or the fact that right now, she seemed as bored with him as he often was with most other women he’d slept with after the fact. “Fine then, keep your secrets. That just makes me want you more.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh I think you’ve had enough.” She stopped, turning to look at him head on. “Look. What happened last night? I think we can both agree that was a spur of the moment thing. Just two people looking for a hookup, yeah? Let’s just forget it ever happened. You get to keep your life clean and scandal free, and I don’t have to be thrusted into the public spotlight as </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘the girl who fucked Steve Haines</span>
  </em>
  <span>’. Sound like a good deal?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The offer had Steve taken aback. Every other time he’d done something like this he was the one prying a desperately clingy partner, usually after something more than just sex, off of him. Figuratively </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>literally. But Psyche? Psyche didn’t seem all that interested in the idea of sticking around anyway. She was so… different, in the sense that she really seemed out of place in Vinewood of all places. From what he could glean, she wasn’t after money or power. Or at least, if she was, she was definitely a lot smarter than most in trying to wrangle it out of a sad one-night stand with a celebrity. That only made Steve more curious. And suspicious. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, alright then…” he slowly nodded. “It’s a deal. But how about this?” He offered a caveat, to which Psyche could not hold back an irritated sigh, nor keep her arms from crossing over her chest impatiently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you want?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To see you again.” He husked into her ear with hardly a shiver in response as he moved to stand in front of her. “We had a lotta fun last night, didn’t we? Doesn’t have to stop now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hand moved to gently grasp her chin in his fingers and raise her head to look at him. “Come on, Psyche~ What do you say?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Behind her shades Haines could catch her eyes narrowing up at him. The idea of being his on-call booty call didn’t sound too appealing if she was being completely honest. But if it meant getting the man off of her back finally, then fine. So be it. She didn’t have time for this. Not now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright- yeah, fine. Whatever. Here.” She pulled a small notepad and pen from her clutch, hastily scribbling down her number on the paper and shoving it against Steve’s chest. His hands briefly moved over hers, fingers skimming over soft, warm skin before catching the edge of the paper note and glancing at it. He smirked as he counted ten digits before tucking it away in his pocket for safe keeping.  “Now if you don’t mind, I’m kind of in a hurry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course.~” Finally, he stepped aside and allowed Psyche to pass him by, watching as she continued down the sidewalk while he found himself already right by his car. “We’ll be in touch then!” He called out with no response to his words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he moved towards the driver’s side door of his vehicle, Steve found himself taking a moment to simply sit back in the comfortable leather seating and let everything from last night and this morning sink in. Psyche. Her words. Her body. The wine— the wine! He looked over at the floor of the passenger side, finding the lonely, half-empty bottle rolled up against the underside of the seat. He reached down to pick it up, noting how hot it was now but still managing to catch the name. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sweet Lugosi Merlot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The weight of the glass in his hands paled in comparison to the weight left in his mind from his “date”, but Steve was given little more time to ponder on it as his phone rang in his pocket. He fished it out as quickly as he could hoping to catch a glance at the name that popped up before he had to answer. Dave Norton. Of course.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Duty called after all. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Howdy! Thank you for taking the time to read my story! I’ve had this idea brewing in my head for a while now. It was a originally a concept a friend and I came up with based on a bit of brainstorming, but I found that I loved it so much I wanted to make a full fledged story out of it! So, here we are. </p><p>If you’re enjoying it, please be sure to leave a comment, I appreciate all the feedback I can get! It’s been a while since I’ve written anything longer than a few paragraphs for ficlets, one-shots, and roleplay threads, so I’m still a bit rusty and getting back into the groove of things but man, does it feel good to be writing like this again! :D</p></blockquote></div></div>
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